


Touch

by Sokerchick



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokerchick/pseuds/Sokerchick
Summary: Of all of the five senses it is the scariest to live without





	Touch

Of all of the five senses it is the scariest to live without…

Hers is the first touch he remembers. It's soft. The brush of her fingertips across his cheek to wipe the tears away or the press of her lips to his knee when he fell off of his bike. A mother's touch can be the most comforting feeling in the world. The simplest gesture of reassurance. The feeling of her hand as it reaches out to brush his forearm in comfort or in reassurance.

The second touch was rough. The second touch said be a man. It conveyed strength and discipline. Sometimes it hurt and sometimes it protected him. Sometimes it was gone for months at a time. But always it was something to keep in the back of his mind. To catalog, to be wary of.

The third was awkward and gawky. He wasn't sure if he was touching her right. He was worried about his nose bumping hers and being to forceful or to gentle. He was worried that this touch wasn't allowed.

The fourth, fifth and sixth were done with more confidence. In the library, on the quad on a warm day, in his room. Different girls but the touch was the same. More confident then it had been. Searching, reaching for the connection and not caring particularly who the other person was.

The seventh was a pretty young freshman who had dark curls and sapphire blue eyes. The lash of her tongue was just as welcome as the caress of her lips. This touch was somehow soft and firm at the same time. The sweet kiss of her laughter made his heart lighter but he went to Hopkins and forgot about her for a long time.

The eighth was reassuring. A pat on the back a brush of the shoulders as they moved side by side arguing over little things. The playful elbow to the ribs eliciting a smile. This touch was a constant. A wall to lean on, something solid.

The ninth touch came from Stacy. This touch was warm and loving and forgiving. A clasp of her hand made the world glow. A caress of her hand across his chest left him sucking in air. Simply being in contact with her made him secure from the inside out. Until it was gone.

The next to touch him had never let go. The gripping sensation in his thigh that wouldn't release no matter how hard he rubbed it. It reminded him of the second sometimes but more permanent. Sometimes the pills would turn the crushing grip into a firm handshake but it refused to let go.

The eleventh was professional and measured. Always with a purpose and an end. Always cool and calculated to spend the least time touching as possible. The name changed but the touch was the same every time. 

The last touch was familiar. The creases at the corners of her eyes betrayed the years since the last time but her tongue was just as sharp and her laughter just as melodic. She brought other senses with her. The sound of her heels on the hard linoleum. The scent of barely there raspberry or on certain days flowers. The taste of salt on her neck and the sight of her chest heaving as the sweet soft touch of her breath drifted past his ear. She brought a touch that could make the iron grip on his thigh recede. That could make the knots of muscle unravel. She brought a touch that could finally make him feel safe and wanted. She hugged him and with that touch embraced all of him and he felt at home at last.


End file.
